


Work Song

by AlgedonicLore



Series: Like Real People Do [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlgedonicLore/pseuds/AlgedonicLore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin Lavellan, hunter of the Lavellan Clan, firmly believes that her hellathen begins and ends with the ex-templar Cullen. She is correct, but there's a lot more in between that she never counted on.</p>
<p>(Also known as an AU where Cullen turns against Meredith in the beginning of Act III, telling Hawke of her red lyrium and getting expelled from the Order for high treason. Unable to handle the Kirkwall streets full of lyrium smugglers, Cullen is left to wander the Planascene Forest east of Kirkwall, a helpless victim to his own lyrium addiction. However, the Clan Lavellan is also wandering the forest at the time, and a curious young hunter stumbles across his unconscious body. Too kind-hearted to leave him to die, Anakin Lavellan takes him in and tries to nurse him back to health. This has far greater consequences than she ever could have imagined.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a series centered around the relationship between my Inquisitor and Cullen. Beta-ed and, at points, co-authored by my best friend Emma, who I couldn't have done this without. Thanks, my love!

“Da’len, where are you going? You and the rest of the hunters have provided admirably for the Feast of Mythal already!”

Anakin looked over her shoulder to Keeper Deshanna Lavellan and smiled sheepishly. She knew she wasn’t the greatest hunter. She’d killed a few nugs, but only the long-range hunters could take down the good prey like rams. “Thank you for your graciousness, Keeper, but I’m afraid I’m running out to take care of business that is less hunting and more relieving. I’m not the best at holding my drink, sadly.”

Keeper Deshanna laughed at Anakin’s embarrassment. “Of course, da’len! Make sure you take your weapon. We are too near the city of Kirkwall, and the shem there have a cruelty deeper than most.”

Anakin nodded and quickly stepped to the nearby aravel that her two-handed sword leaned against. “Yes, Keeper. Thank you, Keeper. I may also look for a few herbs and roots for a new tea I want to try, so don’t fret if I’m a bit late.”

“Away with you, Anakin,” Keeper Deshanna said, waving a hand dismissively. “Make sure you return soon. Dareth shiral.”

Bowing her head, Anakin took her leave, and made sure to save her sigh of relief for when she was beyond the Keeper’s keen hearing. She slumped against a tree tiredly. She loved her clan more than anything, but it was exhausting, trying to keep up with their energy and vigor, especially on feast days. Anakin would much prefer a small hut or cabin in which she could rise and set with the sun, maintain a tea garden, perhaps, and quietly practice Dalish traditions by herself. She would need a partner, for sparring at the least. There was no way she could live in silence and stillness alone without being driven mad.

Shaking herself from her contemplations, Anakin started walking deeper into the Planascene Forest, away from her clan’s hunting grounds and water source, and nearer to Kirkwall. She had just found a decent bush to squat next to when she heard a soft groan. Immediately, she sunk deep into the shadows the night and trees cast and pulled her sword from its place on her back, listening for another sound. There was none.

Edging forward on silent feet honed by years of hunting, she crept toward the sound, nearly crouching, yellow-green eyes alert. Busy looking for dangerous shemlen who were taller than her, she nearly stepped on the true cause of the noise. At her feet was, as she’d suspected, a shem man. He was facedown on the ground, weaponless as far as she could see, and unmoving. Carefully, Anakin prodded at his shoulder with one bare toe.

After carefully putting down her sword, Anakin pulled out her hunting knife and, holding it just above the shem’s neck, flipped him over with her free hand before letting out a small gasp.

Oh, the Creators had blessed this one. He was pale, clammy, and obviously sick, but his face was strong and proud, his features handsome and leonine even under whatever ailed him, and though she couldn’t tell the color of his hair in the moonlight, it looked thick and soft.

Clicking her tongue, Anakin thought quickly. Surely it was no coincidence that on this night she had discovered someone in need of aid. Was Mythal not the Great Protector, She Who Loves All? Anakin looked closer at him, opening her heart to the Creators, and felt something settle inside of her. She didn’t know what it was, but this shem called to her, and who was she to ignore him? To ignore Mythal? That decided, she was left only with the question of what to do with him.

She obviously couldn’t take him back to camp, but she couldn’t exactly take him to Kirkwall, either. That meant she would have to make do with the forest itself. Thinking back on her earlier hunting, she remembered an uncommonly spacious nug nest she had stumbled across. It would still be a rather cramped space, but it was large and sheltered enough that a man could be hidden in its burrows and kept safe while she checked back in at the camp before escaping again.

It would have to do.

Sheathing her knife, she grabbed the shem by an arm and a leg and hoisted his limp body over her shoulders in the only plausible position she could carry a person so much larger and taller than she. Thankfully, years of wielding weapons bigger than she left her able to carry him, even if her legs shook a bit and she couldn’t go far. Gritting her teeth, she started the slow walk to the nug nest.

Anakin felt him shift a few times, but luckily, he never woke. She wasn’t entirely sure how he would take to being carted off into the woods by a Dalish elf, but she didn’t really want to find out. Then again, even if he did wake, she would have to lecture him about the dangers of passing out in the middle of a forest, especially one with spiders and bandits and other such nonsense, and how he couldn’t expect every person to come across his body to treat it as nicely as she was.

Honestly, shemlen were so silly and naive.

Finally, the burrow entered her sight. Heaving a sigh of relief, Anakin gently placed him into the now empty hollow, sending up a quick thought of thanks to the nugs. Not only had they brought meat for her clan’s feast night, their home was now a shelter for a lost shem. She carefully rearranged his ridiculously long limbs into some semblance of order before removing her cloak and wrapping him in it tightly.

Briefly, she considered leaving him one of her knives, in case he should wake under attack, then dismissed it as too dangerous. He seemed perfectly kind, but a dragon was perfectly kind when it was sleeping, too. She couldn’t underestimate him. She couldn’t forget what his people was capable of doing to hers. Although…

Anakin hesitated, staring at his face, tense and sickly. Unable to resist, she reached out one hand and gently ran a few fingers over his thick curly hair. It was just as soft as she had imagined, and she smiled down on him.

“I’ll be back, shem,” she whispered. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Once more, he made no sound or move. Reassured, she darted back the way she came. What would she tell her Keeper? Of course Keeper Deshanna would encourage her to listen to the Creators, but to help a shem? No. The Keeper couldn’t feel the righteousness Anakin did, couldn’t understand that Anakin _knew_ this was right. She would tell the Keeper that she was feeling moon-sick, and that she would like to spend the night away from the camp in a natural hot spring not far away. Hopefully the Keeper wouldn’t remember it wasn’t her time in the cycle to be bleeding and let her go without an escort. Otherwise, she would have to put up a big enough fuss that her escort would be discomforted enough to leave, which would be embarrassing and she would really rather avoid.

That was when her bladder reminded her why she came out on her own in the first place. Groaning, she slunk off to a nearby tree.

 

The moon had barely changed position in the sky by the time she made it back to her lost shem, thankfully alone. Keeper Deshanna had accepted her muttered, red-faced explanation with a sympathy and kindness that made Anakin feel a bit guilty, and dismissed her to leave with a request to be back before high noon. Anakin wasn’t really sure what she was planning to do with the shemlen, but she hoped to the Creators he would be awake by then.

Quietly, she crept into the grove where the nug nest was. The moon had barely moved, yes, but it had moved enough that what was once bathed in moonlight was now dark, and in the darkness, the nest was now simply a darker spot. Squinting to see if the shem was there or if he’d been dragged off by spiders, she stood taller and moved closer. It was when she was merely feet away from the tree whose roots the nug nest was nestled in that the shem struck. Before she could retaliate, she was slammed into the tree by the angry shem, his hands pinning her shoulders to the rough bark,

His hands were hot and damp, clearly feverish. His eyes were flickering wildly, hardly seeming to recognize that it was a person he was holding, and she could feel his arms shaking. Aware that he could do her no damage in the state he was in, Anakin deliberately stayed still.

“Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?” the shem growled fearsomely. Anakin felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. His voice was deep and dangerous. She may have underestimated him.

“Calm yourself, shem,” she said, keeping her voice low and soothing. “I am here to help you. I found you unconscious about six minutes away from here on foot. Please, let us discuss your current state rationally.”

“You can’t make me go back,” he told her seriously, his eyes finally meeting hers. They were dark. “I will not go back.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere, shem,” she reassured him, before taking a risk and lifting her hands, placing them gently on top of his. His trembling worsened.

“Please,” she said. “Let me go.”

He jerked away as though he had been burned. “I- I’m so sorry. I’m not…”

“You’re not in any state to be on your own,” she said firmly. “There is a perfectly nice root not five feet away from us. Perhaps we could sit on it and you could warm yourself once more with my cloak?”

His eyes wandered slowly to her cloak on the ground. “Your…?”

Anakin blinked slowly. He was truly sick, if his ability to think and process new information was any indication. She was no Keeper or First, but fevers passed through Dalish camps all the time. She knew he needed heat, water, and a watcher, all of which she could provide. In fact, the hot spring she’d mentioned to the Keeper would do perfectly.

“Shem, do you think you could walk about a half mile?”

His eyes snapped back to her with a precision that was unnerving after his earlier daze, but there was no danger in his eyes. A strange shock she couldn’t interpret passed over his features before he looked away and gruffly asked, “Where do you plan to take me, elf?”

“Merely to a natural spring. I don’t know for sure what you’re sick with, but I do know you need to sweat it out.”

He laughed harshly. “There’s no sweating out this sickness, this- _this poison_.”

Anakin looked at him sharply, alarmed. “Poison? Do you know what kind? There are lots of antidotes in these woods-”

“Do elves secretly hold the cure to lyrium addiction, then?” he asked bitterly, a cold smile twisting his lips. “Or will I be left to die here, alone and defeated?”

Lyrium addiction. A templar. By the Dread Wolf, but this was worse than she thought. Yet, she was compelled to finish what she had begun. She was never one to regret her choices or leave a job half-finished, and now Anakin was obliged to help the shem. The question was how she was to do that, how far she was willing to go in service of Mythal, and, by extension, this shem.

“Perhaps,” she said slowly, mind racing, feeling the strings of destiny wrap around her, “we do hold a secret cure.”

The shem stiffened, and a terrible hope crossed his face. “You do?” he whispered breathlessly. Anakin’s stomach squirmed. That was two lies she’d told this night. Hopefully they wouldn’t backfire, and hopefully her Keeper wouldn’t hate her for what she would do. This wasn’t a matter that would be resolved in one night, which meant that Anakin would have to temporarily leave her clan. Hopefully, they’d forgive her.

“Yes,” Anakin said more confidently. “We do. It’s a secret, you see, terribly precious. You understand, don’t you?”

The hope turned to resignation. “I do understand. What do you ask in return, then, elf? I don’t have much, as can surely be seen.”

Not looking at him, she replied, “Your word that you will not harm me.”

He was silent for a bit, clearly waiting for another stipulation. She shrugged. “That’s it,” she said. “I need only your word that you will not hurt me, or my clan, and you must trust me. Well, and your name, I suppose.”

He was quiet again before saying, “Cullen.”

“Hmm?” she asked, turning to face him once more. His eyes met hers for the third time that night.

“My name,” he said more clearly. “It’s Cullen. And you, my lady?”

She smiled tentatively. He called her ‘lady’. How frivolous. How fun. “Anakin. It’s nice to meet you, Cullen. Now, I must leave a note here for my clan, and then we can go.”

“To the hot spring?” he asked as she pulled out a roll of vellum and a piece of carved charcoal used for map-making from inside her hip satchel. She graciously didn’t stare too obviously at the way he was slumped weakly against a tree.

“Yes,” she said, scrawling a note to her clan in small, messy letters, explaining that she’d seen a golden halla and felt obligated to track it to its herd. They’d believe her capable of such dreaminess, surely. Then again, she _was_ capable of such dreaminess. “The hot springs can actually help you sweat out the lyrium still in your body.”

“But the addiction will remain,” he pointed out.

Anakin’s hand faltered in her writing as she thought quickly once more. “There’s an- herb. One found around hot springs. It’ll soothe the need.”

She prayed fervently to Mythal that the shem- Cullen- had strength of will enough to pull himself away from lyrium, because the Creators and she both knew that there was no such herb.

“How have we never heard of this?” he marveled to himself. Sticking the note, hopefully securely, to the tree using sap, she turned to him and shrugged. “Do not ask _me_ to explain the ways of shemlen. Now, it’s obvious that you cannot walk far on your own. Allow me to help support you as we make our way, please.”

To her immense joy, she could see him flush even in the dark of the night as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I do not know if that would be truly _appropriate_ , Anakin.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed at his scandalized expression. “I am elvhen, Cullen. Surely you’ve heard the stories of us dancing naked in the moonlight, our craven sexual rituals? You don’t think a bit of embracing is that bad, do you?”

There was no dancing or sex rituals, of course, but Anakin knew the stories told about her people in hushed whispers, shocked or titillated or both, and Cullen reacted beautifully to her prodding, going even redder, sputtering, and even grasping futilely at his chest as if experiencing genuine pain.

She laughed again and, after picking up her cloak, looped his arm around her shoulder amidst his protests. “Come, shem. Let me help you, as one living being must help another, and let it go no further.”

He might have muttered something about her insisting, but she wasn’t sure.

Cullen was still trembling, but Anakin couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from the lyrium addiction. Either way, it was worrisome, even if he had become a lot more lucid as they conversed, and she tried subtly to take more of his weight. Much to her frustration, however, he instead moved further away. Put out, she said, “Do you think I will drop you?”

“What?” he asked, startled. “No- well, maybe. It’s just- you’re rather small, and that’s a large weapon you wield, to be sure, but I must be twice your width and at least as tall as one and a half of you. I don’t-”

He stopped before finishing in an humiliated mumble, “I can be oafish at the most inconvenient of times and I don’t want to crush you.”

Her heart did something funny. “Cullen. I’ve carried greater burdens than you.”

“But why are you carrying me?” he burst. “Elves- they don’t do that! They don’t help humans, definitely not templars, and surely you’ve realized what I am by now! What are you gaining from this?”

Anakin stayed quiet. She didn’t know if she could explain it. The shemlen didn’t believe in the Creators, too consumed in their one Maker, and she didn’t know if he would understand what it meant that on the feast day of Mythal, All-Mother and protector, goddess of love, she had found someone who needed help, _her_ help. She, a hunter who had never truly helped the clan- for what good was a hunter who couldn’t use long-range weapons due to poor eyesight?- had been bound to him by the will of Mythal, for reasons she couldn’t know. She couldn’t even understand how she was sure that this was a mandate, but she had never been one to question her heart or the faith that guided it.

“Because it is the will of the gods, shem,” she said simply. “It is my hellathen, a task bestowed upon me by Mythal the All-Mother. I don’t know how to explain it any clearer than that.”

He was quiet once more. Anakin could feel his doubt, and comforted herself with the fact that he didn’t voice his dissent aloud.

“Isn’t Mythal the one you sacrifice things to?” he finally asked, sounding rather scared of the answer. A laugh burst from her chest unbidden.

“No, silly, that’s Andruil. Don’t worry, her feast night isn’t until fall, _and_ she doesn’t have much of a taste for shemlen.”

He probably thought his sigh of relief was discreet. She decided she’d let him keep thinking that.

Cullen had a strong heart, even in his sickness. She could feel it beating even through his coat. Anakin thought that must be a good sign.

“There,” she said, pointing with her free hand. “The spring.”

Cullen started to pull away and Anakin caught his arm. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he asked back.

“Bathing with you to make sure you don’t drown,” she said slowly, puzzled. Had he never bathed with anyone else before?

“No,” he told her firmly. “No. I have to draw a line somewhere, and here is the line. We are not bathing together.”

Anakin furrowed her brow. “But what if you pass out?”

“Then I will pass out and I will drown, but I will not have embarrassed you and myself by seeing you exposed,” he said, bright red.

What in the world was the shem talking about?

“But I wouldn’t be embarrassed by being naked with you,” Anakin tried to tell him. “I’m not a lecher, I promise.”

Cullen cleared his throat a couple times before managing to say, “You aren’t at all worried for your virtue? Not that your v-virtue is in danger from me!”

“I don’t think anyone’s virtue is in danger from you right now,” she said sympathetically, patting his arm. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. Putting odd human traditions from her mind, Anakin pulled away and started to take off her armor, weapons, and underclothes, firmly ignoring Cullen’s upset and wounded noises.

“If you don’t get undressed right now,” she said, voice firm, “then I will take your clothes off myself.”

“Please don’t”, he said, eyes intense and serious. “I’m in no state to fight you off.”

“Then undress,” she said, looking away. It was too difficult to look him in the eye and ask him to do something he didn’t want to do. He just looked so distressed and worried, and while she was touched by his concern for her, she was safe. Anakin was more than capable of taking care of herself, and if Cullen didn’t know it yet, well. She was in no hurry to show him. Violence would never be her first answer, but it was her final answer, as shemlen who had attacked her clan in the past could attest to their Maker, the only being who could hear their voices any longer.

Sighing heavily, Cullen started pulling at his armor. She smiled at him encouragingly.

“That’s it! Now, join me in the water. It is perfectly warm, I promise.”

Turning away from him to grant him privacy, Anakin slowly waded into the bubbling water. It was indeed warm, almost unpleasantly so, and at its deepest point went just past her lips. Contentedly, she floated to a natural shelf in the rocks and seated herself, the water rising to a few inches below her collarbone. Breathing easy, she relaxed and ignored Cullen sidling into the water, hunched over, his hands attempting to cover apparently his entire groin, arms positioned uncomfortably to shield his nipples.

He couldn’t seem to make himself look at her, but her eyes were trained keenly on him, and she saw the way the water soothed him, the heat warming his aching muscles and slowing his tremors. She had been right to take him here.

“Are you sure this will help?” Cullen asked desperately. She hummed in assent before hurrying to catalogue the plants that grew around springs and which he wouldn’t recognize. Arbor’s blessing was good for calming draughts, but that tended to grow in colder climates. Dragonthorn brought strength, but grew only in deserts. Elfroot grew everywhere and had healing properties, but he would recognize that plant, surely. The distinct shape of an embrium flower caught her eye. Perhaps embrium, for its therapeutic properties and relative abundance around water? What if he had a reaction to it?

“Anakin?”

“Are there any plants you react badly to?” she demanded, ignoring his question.

“I- no?” he answered, startled.

“Good,” she said briskly before rising out of the water to reach over and gather some of the embrium flower heads nearby. The stalks were thorny and prickly, but the petals and roots hadn’t harmed anyone.

Cullen coughed behind her and she looked over her shoulder. His face was turned firmly away, and he was sunk nearly to his chin in the water.

“How is it that you are so comfortable being so exposed around a man?” he asked faintly.

“We Dalish bathe in groups, if not as the whole clan,” she answered, still plucking petals. “It’s simply too dangerous to bathe on our own, with templars and shemlen about and always looking for either mage elves or defenseless elves. I’ve bathed with the men and women of my clan my whole life. I don’t see why you have such a preoccupation with the nude body, to be honest. It’s not like we’re-”

Anakin cut herself off sharply, picturing her and Cullen intimate together all too vividly. Suddenly, she _was_ embarrassed to be naked in front of him, and she sat down rather quickly.

“I’ve made it awkward now, haven’t I?” Cullen said mournfully after a long pause. “I’m so sorry. Here you are, trying to help me, and I just keep bumbling around and-”

He was cut off by a sudden coughing fit that had him bent over and wracked in pain. Alarmed, Anakin sat up and moved closer.

“Cullen?”

His coughing ended slowly, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were again distant, unable to track her movement.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice raspy once more. “How did I get here?”

Anakin felt a surge of worry. She had never seen such a quick descent back into fever dreams and was uneasily reminded that she’d never dealt with lyrium addiction before, and that most templars in fact went mad from the longings. She’d heard stories of templars who had to be put down like feral dogs, because they would fall suddenly and unpredictably into paranoia-filled delusions in which they threatened everyone around them.

She sent a quick prayer that she wouldn’t have to kill Cullen.

“Cullen, I’m-” she started to say, but was interrupted immediately.

“You will never break me, maleficar!” he barked, eyes rolling wildly as his tremblings returned, nearly to the point of convulsions. “No demon you summon will break me!”

Maleficar? She wasn’t even a mage. What sort of fictional reality had he fallen into?

Hesitantly, she reached out to grab his hands, as though she could pull him back from wherever his mind had wandered. “Cullen-” she began once more, but he raised his voice above hers.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter,” he chanted, a near maniacal gleam carving his face into unfamiliar and eerie lines. Anakin felt a surge of fear. There was a grudge in his eye, a violence in his voice, that scared her. This was not the humble, mild man she’d been conversing with. This was the mad creature she’d first met. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just-”

That’s when she saw the sharp rock in his hand. Wincing, she punched his jaw as hard as she could. The poor shem was out in a heartbeat, slumped against the rock behind him. Unconscious, his mouth hung open like a child’s, the lines of tension in his face smoothed, the frightful intensity thankfully gone.  Frowning, she carefully skimmed her fingers around his jaw where she’d hit him. There was only minor swelling. Heartsick and disappointed, she left the spring to collect her clothes and his.

While pulling on her underclothes, Anakin looked over her shoulder to the pool. The flower heads of the embrium that she had dropped in her haste had floated to gather around Cullen’s chest. They looked uncannily like bloodstains in the moonlight and Anakin was filled with a sudden doubt. She pushed it aside roughly and after pulling on the rest of her clothes, ignoring the way they tugged at her wet skin, went to pull Cullen from the spring.

“Mythal,” she whispered. “You better know what you’re doing, because surely you realize that I do _not.”_

There was no reply, but then, she hadn’t truly expected one.

 

Perhaps Mythal hadn’t replied in words to Anakin’s prayer, but she must be helping in her own way. There was no other explanation for the luck Anakin had in stumbling across an empty hut, not far from the spring. Carefully placing Cullen’s body, wrapped in her cloak as best as she could manage, on the ground, Silently, she broke into the hut, breaking the glass of a front window with the hilt of her hunting knife. As appearances had led her to believe, it was empty. There was a bed, a shelf, some herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a dusty note with a key beside it. Curious, Anakin looked closer at the note.

_My dear Leahona_ , it read. _You have been gone for two years now, and yet the pain has not yet faded. I am beginning to doubt it ever will. I do know that remaining in this ghost of a house will never let me heal. So, I’m leaving it, the way you left me. If you ever return, know that it is yours, as am I, as we will ever be._

Sad.

Anakin unlocked the door and went to pick up Cullen and his armor, and both were thankfully where she left them. Cullen was still out cold. Bringing him to the hut, she laid him on the bed before tugging at the furs he laid on and pulling them over him. He didn’t flinch, and looked rather like a sleeping maiden noble, much to her amusement.

Shaking her head at herself and stifling a yawn, Anakin moved over to his armor and clothes, which she folded sloppily before placing them at the foot of his bed. Then her arms fell limply to her side as she stared at Cullen once more, frustrated.

She was exhausted. She’d hunted all day, celebrated a feast, dragged a heavy shem up and down a cold, dark forest, and there was simply no way that she’d be able to stay awake and watch over him through the night. Yet, she couldn’t just sleep either. Cullen appeared perfectly nice, when in his honest state of mind, but lyrium made beasts of men, and she could see the power in his frame. Awake, she stood a chance, if a small one. She was a powerful warrior, but a self-taught warrior, against a templar who’d likely been trained since childhood by cruel masters. Caught asleep, however, even a lyrium-addled templar could kill her before she woke.

Perhaps she could tie him to the bed? But if he woke, the restraints may send him into another fit. Would it be worth the risk? Was there even anything she could use to tie him?

She briefly searched the hut and was rewarded with additional furs, a tea kettle and two cups, one jar of honey, and a soft hemp rope. It wasn’t nearly long or plentiful enough for a secure tie, but if she pulled down some of the herbs from the ceiling and used the rope that had suspended them, she might be able to tie both of his wrists to the bedpost. Hopefully any clatter he made upon waking would be enough to wake her too.

Untying the scarf from her neck, Anakin carefully sliced it in half with her hunting knife before gently tying each half around Cullen’s wrists. His wrists safely padded, she then tied them to the bedposts. The rope was loose and slack, but the knots were tight and would likely need to be cut to be undone. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to bind him again, at least not before she could make more rope.

Cullen didn’t wake through the whole process. Mildly concerned, she slipped her hand beneath the sheets to feel for the solid heartbeat that had so reassured her earlier. It was still there, but weaker. Selfishly, she hoped it was the addiction and not her rough handling. If he died under her care, it would be worse than the time she’d tried to nurse a bird back from injury just to embrace it too tightly and break its poor back.

Her hand was still on his heart. Blushing, she yanked it away before yawning again. She scrubbed at her face with her hands, running her fingers through the wild white hair on the top of her head, moving to feel the bristles on the sides and back of her scalp where it was closely shaved. It was definitely time for her to sleep. She looked at the furs she had uncovered and laid one on the ground for a cushion from the dirt, though she’d slept on worse, and pulled the other over her body. The blanket was obviously cut for someone much larger than her and was wonderfully warm.

Sleepily, she whispered a good night to the Creators, before adding a special message to Mythal.

“Thank you, All-Mother, for this chance to nourish a new life,” she murmured, eyes fluttering shut. “Please, if you don’t mind, help me succeed. I could use a friend.”

And she was asleep.

           

As was her usual habit, Anakin was awake by the time the sun had finished rising, despite her late night. Rubbing at her burning eyes, Anakin sat up slowly, becoming uncomfortably aware of a tacky spot on her cheek where she must have drooled in her sleep. She brushed it away with the inside of her wrist quickly and looked at the bed where Cullen had slept.

He was still asleep, or feigning it rather well. He looked less peaceful than before, stress lines carving furrows around his mouth and his forehead. Anakin frowned too. This was a lot more complicated than she had bargained for. She still had no idea how she was supposed to nurse him back to health. It had literally never been done. Lyrium addiction was fatal. It was just a matter of time. She truly couldn’t help him; she could only hope that he could help himself. She could try and keep him clean, perhaps ground him to this reality, and she could certainly ask the Creators for their aid, but there wasn’t a cure.

Well. Ruminating had never helped anyone. Anakin stood and made her way to the door of the hut, grabbing the kettle as she left. She was hungry already, and she was sure Cullen would be too. Nugs were slow and small enough that she could catch and kill them with her hunting knife, and she had gotten fairly skilled at making nug bacon. While she was out, she could also go and collect more embrium flower heads to try to brew a palatable tea out of them.

It didn’t take long to find another nug nest down by a stream that wound lazily through the forest, and Anakin quickly killed a nug that would make a fine breakfast. The stream had even contained fish, which she could probably get for lunch and supper later in the day and was clean enough for tea water. The embrium was a bit harder to find, but by returning to the spring, she was able to salvage a few flowers. The question now was what she could brew with the leaves, roots, and petals of the flower to make it taste good. There was honey back at the hut, which would make a great sweetener, but some sweetgrass brewed with the embrium would go a long way, especially with its cleansing properties.

Thankfully, sweetgrass was abundant in the Free Marches and Anakin quickly had as much as she needed. Pleased at the fruits of her labor, when less than an hour had passed, she started back to the hut, humming happily under her breath. When she opened the door to the hut, a hoarse voice called, “Anakin?”

"Cullen?” she said, dropping her herbs and nug in surprise. “You’re awake! And lucid!”

He coughed quietly and she noticed his hands were still tied. Good. “What happened, Anakin? We were in the spring together, and now I’m, um, tied to a bed.” He trailed off awkwardly, flushing. It was enchanting, how red his face went, how it seemed to color even his hair, which she could see now in the sunlight was golden. Anakin smiled brightly at him before toning it down to something more somber and appropriate.

“Your mind wandered from us, Cullen, and I was forced to restrain you, to prevent you from hurting either of us. How are your wrists and your jaw?”

"That’s some right hook you have,” he said wryly. “I’ll be feeling it for a while, but I’ll survive. And you? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all,” she reassured him. “I can keep us both safe, I swear it.”

Cullen didn’t look reassured. A dark cloud passed over his face, a sadness she could almost taste lingering on the air. “Anakin,” he said. “I need you to promise me something.”

“What?” she asked.

“Promise,” he insisted,

"I can’t do that until you tell me what I’m agreeing to,” Anakin said, crossing her arms. Cullen was scaring her a bit. He looked a little like the shem men she saw facing the gallows, those that felt no remorse.

“Promise me that you won’t put my safety above yours,” he said, dark eyes holding hers. “I’m a mistake, do you understand? All my life, I’ve tried to do the right thing, and yet I keep ruining it, first in Kinloch Hold and now here in Kirkwall. Worse than that, I actively hinder the truly good people, the just and the brave. I thought that by doing what I did, by exposing Knight-Commander Meredith, I’d finally be helping, and from what I gathered before I woke with you, at least Hawke has been putting the information I gave her to good use.

“That’s enough for me,” he told her, his voice strangely earnest. “I finally did good. I don’t want to ruin what could be my last good act, the only action I’ve been proud of for ten years, by hurting or killing someone like you, someone gentle and kind, who helps people simply because it’s the right thing to do. So, I ask that you promise me that you will let me go with dignity, if your cure truly doesn’t work.”

Anakin had no idea what half of what Cullen just said meant, or who half the people were, but it sounded like he’d had this on his chest for a while now. Quiet, she tried to piece together what he just told her. Cullen seemed to be a rather more tragic figure than she’d initially pinned him for. Anakin hated when people were sad, but she could definitely respect that he wanted to die his own person rather than a twisted caricature, which made her wonder. She knew that there wasn’t really a cure, but it was finally hitting her what she’d promised Cullen by telling him that there was, and what the consequences of her lie could mean. Should she tell him the truth? Should she kill him now, before he fell into a fever dream he couldn’t wake from?

No. This was her hellathen, her noble struggle, granted to her by Mythal. Beyond even that, she had a _duty_ to Cullen, as she’d told him last night. She must help him as a living being must help another. If she didn’t, she would never be able to face herself again, let alone face her clan or her Creators. She _would_ help him. He _would_ get through this. She would make sure of it.

"Cullen,” Anakin said, walking to him and cutting the knots to free his wrists. He let her, eyeing her with curiosity and trepidation. She took his hands in hers, holding them tightly before speaking with all the intensity and surety she could muster, meeting his eyes squarely. “I swear to you, with all the Creators and your Maker as my witnesses, I will not let you fall. Mala suledin nadas. You must endure- do you understand?”

There was something strange, almost awed about the way Cullen looked at her then, his fingers tightening around hers. “I believe you,” he said wonderingly. “You truly will save me, won’t you?”

“I will not save you,” she corrected. “I’ll only help you save yourself.”

His laugh was soft, his smile at her even softer. “Is there a difference between the two?”

Anakin smiled back helplessly before pulling her hands from his. “Come. Let us prepare breakfast, and you can have your first cup of the tea that will help your addiction.”

He didn’t remove the halves of her scarf from where they were tied around his wrists, though he got rid of the rope fragments that clung to him still. She didn’t ask, instead picking the nugs and herbs from where they’d fallen on the floor.

“Can you start a fire, please?” she asked, sitting and pulling out her skinning knife. She turned, allowing him the privacy to redress himself that he clearly desired.

“Do you have a flint and steel?” he replied after the sounds of dressing stopped. “I’m afraid I don’t have much beyond my clothes.”

She untied her hip satchel and tossed it to him. He caught it easily, eyeing the delicate thread work that decorated it.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” she said, smiling. He took out the flint and steel and moved to the fire pit before replying.

“Very. Did you do it?”

She laughed, startled. “Oh, Creators, no! My eyes don’t work the best, sadly, and such fine, precise work is far outside my skill set.” Anakin patted her sword fondly. “No, my tools are best big and heavy.”

He laughed with her as he expertly started the fire. “I shouldn’t laugh. I’m the same way, though I never really got a good grasp on two-handed weapons. I’m more sword-and-shield myself.”

“See, I could never do that! I tried training with a shield for a while, but I kept throwing it at my enemies rather than using it to shield me,” Anakin said, grinning at the bloody nug in her hands.

“Really? You threw it?” Cullen asked, coming to sit next to her. She shrugged. “It seemed the most efficient use for it! Two-handed weapons are much more my style. I’m not one for finesse when it comes down to it, but no one in my clan really used two-handed weapons besides me. I’m pretty good in combat, but I’d do better with a teacher, I think.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Cullen said, taking the nug she handed him and sticking it with a poker he’d brought from the fire pit. “I really am horrid with two-handed weapons.”

“I suppose we all must have our flaws, even handsome shemlen,” she teased, reaching for the tea kettle and crawling to set it up on a hook above the fire pit where it would heat. Cullen made a strange noise behind her, and she turned to look at him.

He was blushing yet again.

“Why do you do that so often?” she said, smiling for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

“Do what?” he mumbled.

“Blush, silly,” she said. “See, with skin as pale as yours, you’re really no good at hiding it.”

Thinking of the few times she’d blushed in the past day and night, Anakin felt a surge of gratefulness for her darker, coppery skin. Cullen, meanwhile, was stumbling around for an answer.

“I’m not around girls that often, you see,” he tried.

“Aren’t there women templars?” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

He looked flummoxed. “Well, yes, but they’re different, aren’t they? Either they’re like Knight-Commander Meredith and are my superior or they’re one of my subordinates, and either way, any feelings would be _wildly_ inappropriate, so I don’t. Feel feelings. For them. Or consider feeling feelings,”

“Have you never laid with a woman then?” she asked curiously. A look of such horror and pain crossed Cullen’s face that she couldn’t help but giggle, but she reaffirmed her question.

“Really, I want to know! I’ve never been intimate with anyone, and I’m curious about what it’s like.”

There were no words that could describe the expression on Cullen’s face. She couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was feeling.

“How old are you again?” he asked weakly. Anakin thought he might actually be sweating.

“Sixteen,” she said. “How old are you?”

She watched him mouth sixteen silently before he cleared his throat and said, “I’m nearly ten years older than you, and I don’t really feel it’s appropriate for me to talk with someone so young about matters like this.”

“I’m an adult,” she argued. “I’ve bled for years now, and I have my vallaslin.”

She could see his mind trip over the word ‘bled’ before he forcefully moved on to say, “Vallaslin?”

“My blood writing,” she said, fingers brushing at the white tattoos that decorated her face. “They’re given to elves upon reaching adulthood. The ink is put in our skin with needles by our Keeper, after we’ve meditated and found true peace in our Creators and their ways. It is one of the most painful experiences one will ever experience, and the ritual must be done in complete silence. A cry of pain is an admission of weakness and cannot be tolerated.”

“That’s barbaric,” he said, disgusted. Anakin’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, whose culture is it that forcefully addicts their faithful to horrific substances? Between the two of us, I believe it is _I_ who has been treated better by my culture and religion.”

His jaw tightened and for a second he glared back at her before he looked down. “I apologize,” he said tightly. “That was wrong of me to say. I don’t know anything about the Dalish other than what you’ve told me.”

Anakin sighed before setting a hand on his knee. “Yes it was wrong of you, but I apologize too. I’m here to help you, not to hurt you further.”

He smiled shyly at her but before he could say anything, they were both interrupted by the whistling of the tea kettle. Startled, Anakin jerked her hand away from him as he exclaimed, “Maker’s breath!”

“The water’s done!” Anakin said excitedly, standing and nearly running to it.

“What’s the tea for, again?” Cullen said, following her at a more sedate pace.

“It has the herb that will help with your addiction,” she lied. “The embrium flower will help you. Now, there are a few things you must know. You can’t simply drink it once and be forever fixed.”

He looked disappointed, sadly, but also like he’d expected nothing more. She continued speaking, shredding the embrium as she talked.

“You must drink it _every morning_ for it to work. It’ll take time for the medicine to settle in your system, so you won’t feel relief immediately. That doesn’t mean it’s not working, it just means that you have to power through.”

She stopped, looking up at him with what she hoped was a reassuring expression. “Nothing worth gaining comes without a price, right?”

“That seems to be the way of the world,” he agreed. He looked troubled once more, eyes stormy as he stared at the kettle as if it contained the secrets to life. Then again, to him it perhaps did. Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, Anakin prayed that he would make it through the worst of the withdrawals.

She put the shredded embrium leaf and sweetgrass in the kettle and set it aside to steep before pulling the nug out of the fire. It was a bit on the charred side, maybe, but it would serve just fine.

“Breakfast?” she offered with a smile. Cullen sat next to her again, smiling back through his strained expression.

“Thank you. For all of this, for taking care of me. It’s rather new to me, so I’m not the best patient, but I do appreciate what you’re doing. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Anakin waved it away before offering him some nug meat. “Eat. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“We do?” he asked, taking the meat. “What exactly are we going to do?”

She smiled serenely as she reached for the tea kettle and poured it into a chipped wooden cup. “Dalish meditations. By the time I’m done with you, your mind will be so clear that no substance could take you again.”

He looked doubtful. “I wasn’t the best at meditations in the Chantry, and I believe in the Maker with all my heart. I don’t know how well this will work.”

Anakin felt her smile turn roguish. “And how exactly does one meditate in the Chantry? I assume there’s lots of darkness and silence, heavy incense, maybe even a montone recitation in the background?”

“Well, yes,” Cullen admitted.

“Drink your tea, lethallin,” Anakin said. He did, making a face. Smiling, she nudged the honey to him. He looked very appreciative and gave a hum of contentment.

“I will show you how the Dalish meditate.”

 

She took him to a glade not far from the cabin. As they walked, Anakin took careful note of how he carried himself. He was still weak, and the tremors seemed to becoming more powerful the longer he was awake. They wouldn’t be able to do as much as she hoped, but she could at least get him started.

“What do you know of the Vir Tanadhal, Cullen?” she asked as she stripped to her underclothes and started stretching. He seemed to be getting better about not letting her fluster him, as he started undressing before she even told him to, although he was still bright red.

“I know that it’s Dalish?” he offered weakly.

“Correct. It is the goddess Andruil’s gift to us,” she said, indicating Cullen to follow her stretching movements. His movements were jerky and unpracticed, but he seemed willing to follow. “It is a code given to our people that we can choose to follow. As a hunter, it governs my life. I will teach it to you in a way I hope you will understand best.

“It has three parts,” she began. “In the first, she told us we must be swift and silent. Strike true, and do not waver. Let not your prey suffer.”

Before Cullen could even blink, Anakin slipped forward and effortlessly tackled him to the grass. He hit the ground with a loud _thump_ and a cry of pain as she pinned him in place.

“This is Vir Assan, the Way of the Arrow.”

“What are you doing?” he wheezed. His trembling was slowing. “I thought we were meditating.”

“We are,” Anakin said, smiling brightly. “You and I, we are warriors, Cullen. How can we find peace and serenity in an abundance of stillness and contemplation? No, we must move and fight and feel the life of another person.”

She stood and held a hand out to him. “Now for the second part.”

Cullen took her hand and stood a few feet away, crouched and ready. A fire had been lit in his eyes.

“Andruil told us that as the sapling bends, so must we. In yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength.”

When she leapt at him this time, he was ready. He caught her smoothly, tossing her away. She twisted in the air to land on her feet, and he was already charging at her. She let him hit her, but when they hit the ground, she quickly rolled to be on top and pinned him once more, this time with her wrist at his throat.

“This is Vir Bor’Assan, the Way of the Bow.”

“You’re too small!” he protested. “I can’t catch you! Mages tend to be too slow for this to be a problem, and templars have big, bulky armor.”

“Then you’ll have to learn to be quicker, won’t you?” she said, rising off of him once again. He took her hand again and she saw the unsteadiness of his knees as he readied himself.

“In the final part, Andruil said that we must receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness. We must respect the sacrifice of her children, and know that our passing will nourish them in turn. In both the largest and smallest ways-”

Cullen lunged at her, but his legs buckled before he could reach her, and Anakin caught him, falling to her knees beside him.

“-together, we are stronger than the one,” she finished gently. “This is Vir Adahlen, the Way of the Forest.”

“I promise that I’m usually a better fighter,” Cullen told her seriously. Anakin grinned at his sheepishness. “I know you are, Cullen. I am healthier than you, and this is the fighting I’ve been trained with my whole life. With you at full-strength and in armor…”

“Let’s try again,” he said, pulling away. His face was determined, the light in his eyes still bright.

“Not quite yet,” she said. “That was simply a demonstration. For a true meditation, we should have you work on the actual moves I used against you. We can spar more later, I promise.”

“What will you have me do then, oh wise elf?” Cullen teased.

“Do not mock, young one,” she shot back. “I’ll make a proper Vir Tanadhal practitioner out of you yet, just you wait. Now, while I’m sure that your posture is perfect for a warrior in full armor, a child could knock you over right now.”

“Is that due to my posture or my sickness?” he said, relaxing and shifting self-deprecatingly.

“Well, both, probably,” Anakin said. “But I was directly referring to your posture. You must relax. Remember, we must bend, and right now you will break.”

He nodded and took a deep breath before managing an approximation of the same pose she held. She nodded back approvingly.

“Good. Spread your feet a bit farther apart, and bring your center lower. What cannot be caught cannot be killed. You must be ready to jump away at a moment’s notice.”

“I never realized the Dalish fought so defensively,” he remarked, making a face as he moved his body into patterns it wasn’t used to. Anakin shrugged as she started to lead him through an offensive routine.

“We must. You said it yourself. I’m half your size and I am never getting any bigger. The average Dalish man can’t be more than an inch taller than me, and unless he’s a two-handed warrior like me, he’s not broader, either. Humans, qunari, even dwarves are physically stronger than most elves. We had to learn to turn your strength against you, in the same style rogues do.”

“I think I know why you’re teaching me this,” Cullen said after a moment of following her slow movements carefully.

“Oh?”

“The lyrium addiction is stronger than me,” he said quietly. “All of my templar training will do nothing against this. It’s like you said. I have to bend and not break.”

He caught on quicker than she thought he would, but then, Anakin wasn’t exactly the most subtle or mystic elf to have lived.

“You forgot the most important part,” she said, voice gentler than she intended. “Together, we are stronger than the one. We are together in this, Cullen.”

His smile was radiant, even as it trembled at the edges. “I feel better already, Anakin.”

 

By late afternoon, Cullen had nearly mastered the basics of the set Anakin had taught him. For hours, he’d followed her through the routine, and while it would take a long time for him to use it as instinctually as she did, Anakin could see how hard he was trying. He took breaks only for water, and wasn’t afraid to ask questions or receive criticism.

 Anakin was proud of him.

“Are you hungry yet?” she asked, sitting cross-legged and watching him avidly. Both their armors sat in a discarded pile a good ten feet away.

Cullen stopped, wiping at his sweaty brow. “I could eat,” he said easily. “Do you need any help hunting?”

She shrugged. “You can come if you want. I was just going to spear a few fish we could sear for a late lunch or an early dinner.”

“That sounds delicious,” he said. “I’d love to watch you hunt.”

Anakin looked down self-consciously. “I’m not the best, really. Our archers are the best hunters, and catch the best prey. I’m too slow and weighted down to get much.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think you are,” Cullen reassured her awkwardly. Anakin laughed and shook her head as she stood and grabbed her. “I’m really not, but that’s okay. I’m better at fighting shemlen than anyone else in my clan, and I’m better at taking down prey like druffalo and bronto.”

Cullen smiled at her shyly. “Sounds like my kind of fighter.”

“Would that make you my commander?” she asked, leading him deeper into the forest to the stream she’d found earlier. He followed her easily, trustingly. It warmed her to the core and she smiled at him brightly. He smiled back, and his mouth did this funny thing where it pulled up higher on one side than the other. He looked a lot more confident and powerful than he usually did. Anakin stumbled a bit as her heart did something strange in her chest.

“If I was your commander, I’d probably never send you anywhere,” he told her, his voice low and confiding. Anakin pulled away, offended.

“And why not?”

“You’re far too valuable,” he said, laughing at her indignation. “Between your magical cure and your sparring prowess, I don’t know that I could let you go too far. I get tense and stressed easily. To be able to just call you over and relax…”

“You would have to send me out sometimes,” Anakin said, picking her way carefully to the stream bed and gesturing to Cullen to stay back. “The Dalish aren’t meant for stone walls. Besides-”

She threw her hunting knife into the stream, quick as lightning, before plucking the impaled fish out of the water and turning to Cullen. “I wouldn’t feel like a good warrior if I never fought or provided for you.”

“And you had the gall to tell me you aren’t a good hunter,” he scoffed. She laughed, loud and heartily. “Oh, come on! Are you telling me you can’t do the same thing?”

“I can’t make it look nearly as efficient as you do,” he said modestly, moving closer and holding his hand out for her knife. She handed it to him easily, sweeping a hand towards the water invitingly. He made a face at her before throwing the knife. Sure enough, he easily hit another fish. Cullen arched an eyebrow at her cockily, a lopsided smirk on his face. Anakin crossed her arms.

“Are you making this a competition, shem?”

“I don’t know, elf,” he replied airily. “I don’t know how much of a competition it would be, you see. I mean, I obviously have the advantage.”

“Oh, shove off!” Anakin said, giving a shocked laugh at his audacity. Before she could think it through, she pushed him into the stream, tossing aside her caught fish. Cullen fell backwards into the water with a yell, a flail of his arms, and a mighty splash. Too late, Anakin realized that the stream was only knee deep and filled with stones.

“Cull-!”

She was cut off with a short scream as Cullen’s hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, yanking her forcefully into the freezing water. She felt her shin and elbow graze rocks painfully, and water shot straight up her nose. Gasping, she sat up in the water and gaped at Cullen, who sat next to her, laughing so hard that he was coughing. A wild grin split her face.

“You brought this on yourself, shem!”

She attacked him ruthlessly, trying to shove his head back underwater. He struggled beneath her for a second before worming away and jumping on top of her. She shrieked before he got her under. She opened her eyes, looking at his wavery form through the clear water. Staying where he held her, hands tight on her shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulling before knocking out his elbows with her fists. He fell on top of her with a loud splash and she pushed away from him, emerging from the water and laughing with burning lungs. He popped up with a loud gasp of breath and smiled at her with teary eyes before reaching to tickle her bare waist ruthlessly.

“No, no, no-!” she protested, trying to squirm away, but it was no use. He grabbed her close and pulled her to him so that her back was to his chest, pinning her place and poking at her stomach quickly and unpredictably. She _howled_ with laughter, thrashing in his grip. He wheezed with laughter behind her, not letting her go.

“Who- hah- who is the better hunter, Anakin?” he demanded mercilessly, not releasing her. Anakin laughed even harder.

“N-Neither of us! I think we- haha!- scared all the fish away!”

He stopped tickling her and she squirmed away to flop on the streambed and gasp for breath between giggles and hiccups.

“But I’m hungry,” he said faux-mournfully, his lips still twitching upwards.

“Poor baby,” she cooed. “Come, dry yourself with me. Maybe if we’re quiet long enough, the fish will return.”

Groaning, he crawled on to the bank with her, laying down heavily beside her. She was still hiccuping a bit, and he chuckled a bit every time, but other than that, they were silent.

The forest around them was beautiful. The stream bubbled cheerily beside them. In the distance, Anakin could hear a gentle birdsong and the soft sounds of a nug sniffling nearby. The sun dappled light on her face and body, warming her in patches, and the emerald green and warm brown of the trees around her was soothing and familiar. Anakin wondered what her clan was doing, if they’d found her note. She found she didn’t miss them yet.

“How are you feeling, Cullen?” she whispered softly. He inhaled slowly and didn’t answer for a long moment.

“Strange,” he whispered back. “I feel like I should be upset. I’ve lost everything. I can still feel the addiction, looming over me like a death sentence, but right now… I feel free. I feel light.”

“It’s the Dalish training,” she said conspiratorially. “It works miracles.”

He huffed out a breath of laughter. “I suppose you’re right.”

After that, they were silent again. Anakin didn’t feel compelled to fill the air with meaningless chatter. There was no awkwardness between them. There was a strange happiness in her heart. It wasn’t a bright, powerful thing, but instead a quiet warmth that filled her from her fingers to her toes. She thought she could get used to this feeling.

As she slowly dried, Anakin found her thoughts wandering back to their conversation that morning about men and women and what the two could do together. Or rather, the conversation she’d tried to have and he had efficiently derailed. She had told him the truth- she’d never been with a man. Of course she’d considered it; she wasn’t oblivious to attractive men, or even the occasional woman, and on cold nights when she couldn’t sleep, she sometimes brought herself to pleasure. But never had she touched another, or had another touch her, even something as small as kiss. She wondered at it now. Anakin had never really stopped to consider how other people saw her body. She found her body attractive and it had served her well through the years, but now she considered whether someone like Cullen found her attractive.

She was different from shem women, that much couldn’t be denied. Even ignoring the more obvious features, like her long, pointed ears, her large eyes, and her elven nose, there were still other, subtler differences. She was smaller than all but the most petite of human women, and far more slender. Her breasts were considerable by elven standards, but still small by a human’s standards, and between them, her narrow hips, and her lithely muscular physique, she looked far more like a human boy than a human woman, with their lovely curves and soft surfaces.

Still, despite all these things, Anakin liked the way she looked. She wouldn’t change anything. If Cullen- someone like Cullen, she corrected- didn’t, then it wasn’t her problem. Still, now that the idea had been planted, it nagged at her.

“Cullen?” she asked. He hummed back sleepily.

“Am I attractive by human standards?”

“I really can’t say,” he answered absently. “Humans have radically different ideas on what’s attractive.”

Well. That wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for. Mustering her courage, Anakin ventured to clarify, “Am I attractive by your standards?”

Cullen was quiet for a long, nerve-wracking moment before he said, “Yes.”

Anakin smiled brightly at the sky before whispering confidingly, “I think you’re attractive too.”

They fell back into silence for a bit before Anakin broke the silence once more. “Do you want to catch another fish really quickly and then spar again?”

"Maker, yes,” Cullen said, sitting up and giving her a look of bright excitement. “I’m going to win this time, just you wait.”

"You say that now, but we’ll see who’s laughing when I have you knocked flat on your arse,” she said teasingly as she crouched expectantly over the stream.

“I could push you in right now,” he threatened.

“And lose your dinner once again?” she said disbelievingly. He subsided with grumbling as she eyed the river. Thankfully, the fish had seen fit to return, despite the earlier roughhousing, and Anakin quickly had two new fish. They weren’t large, but one each would be enough to feed them both.

“You don’t use embrium seeds in the tea, do you?” Cullen asked as they slowly walked back to the hut. Anakin shook her head.

“No, just the leaves, although I have an idea for the petals. Why?”

He smiled. “The seeds, when crushed, make a great seasoning on fish.”

Anakin thought of the slightly spicy taste to the seeds and hummed in excitement. “Really? We’ll have to try that. How did you learn about that?”

He shrugged modestly. “The Tower that I worked at in Ferelden was right on a lake. We ate a lot of fish and became pretty good at finding ways to make it taste different. There was this one family from Honnleath that had this way of preparing fish to eat raw with vegetables that is actually one of the tastiest things I’ve tried.”

“Raw fish?” Anakin said, making a face at the thought. “If you say so.”

He laughed at the face she pulled, then hesitated. She noticed.

“What is it, Cullen?”

“Why haven’t you asked me about my past?” he said slowly. Anakin looked at him. He was tense and held himself almost as if he was expecting a blow. The sadness that crossed his face sometimes returned. She thought about the garbled pieces to a story he’d told her when he’d extracted her promise to not put his safety above his. Then, she shrugged.

“Not important.”

He stopped. She kept walking and he stumbled after her, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her to face him.

“Wha- not important? What do you mean, ‘not important’?” he spluttered. Anakin shrugged again, giving him a small smile.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Cullen, but we are the only two people here. I don’t know what it is in your past that’s haunting you, but it doesn’t have to reach you here. You are not what you’ve done. So, it’s not important. If you want to tell me, you can, but I won’t ask.”

Gently, she slid his hand off her shoulder and continued to walk to the hut. After a moment, he followed.

“You are like no one I have ever met, do you know that?” he told her as the hut entered their sight.

“You’re pretty unique yourself,” she said. “Now, you can do the gutting this time and I’ll tend the fire.”

“Do I have to take the tea again?” Cullen asked as he sat and accepted the boning knife she gave him, immediately cleaning the fish. Anakin hesitated as she lit the fire. The truth nagged at her and she wanted to admit everything, but no. It wasn’t time yet. He had to believe in his own ability to overcome the addiction before she could tell him the truth.

“No,” she said finally. “Only with breakfast.” A sly smile crossed her lips. “Although, there is something I can do that will help dispel the lingering feelings of the addiction.”

“All right,” Cullen said gamely, sitting in front of her. He rubbed his hands together and her eyes caught on the halves of her scarf, still tied around his wrists. “What do I need to do?”

“Close your eyes and concentrate intensely on the Vir Tanadhal,” she commanded, trying to hide her anticipation. He did so trustingly, very obviously thinking hard. She smiled and reached for the embrium flower heads and started weaving them together. “Cullen, what’s the first way?” she asked, keeping one eye on him.

“Uh, the Way of the Arrow,” he said after a moment. “Be swift and silent.”

“Good job,” she praised. “The second way?”

“The Way of the Bow,” he said more confidently. “Bend, but do not break.”

Her flower crown was almost done. “The third way?”

He grinned, pleased with himself, eyes still closed. “The Way of the Woods. Together, we are stronger than the one.”

“Perfect!” she chirped before gently placing the crown on his head. “You may open your eyes.”

Hesitantly, he felt at the crown before frowning at her. “Did you just put a crown of flowers on my head?”

She widened her eyes innocently. “The cleansing power of the flower will shelter your mind from impure demons. This is an ancient elvhen tradition that has been passed down for centuries, Cullen.”

He hastily moved his hands away. “Oh! Then, I thank you, Anakin, for sharing such a noble tradition with me.”

Her smile was angelic. This was one lie she didn’t feel bad about. He looked majestic, and her heart warmed at the easy way he accepted her explanation of ‘Dalish traditions’. “You are welcome, Cullen.”

They fell back into quiet as the smell of roasting fish soon filled the hut. Between the scent of dinner and the soft orange light from the setting sun, the hut felt warm and homey. Anakin slowly migrated over to her pile of furs and relaxed into it, humming gently. Cullen sat on the other side of the hut and watched her with gentle brown eyes. She smiled at him before looking out the window, watching a few stars appear in the sky. She couldn’t see any constellations yet, but after she and Cullen sparred, she could perhaps point her favorite out to him.

This was everything she had ever wanted, and while she’d only known Cullen a day, she thought that maybe he could be who she wanted it with. Yes, things could go very wrong. She could find out he actually has a horrible personality, or that he had habits that simply drove her crazy, He could secretly be a serial killer of elves, but she didn’t think he was. Perhaps they could drift apart, a spark that never really ignited. Despite that, there was _something_ between them, something that she thought could grow, if nourished properly and given time. She didn’t know yet if that something was a deep friendship or something a bit more romantic in nature. She thought she would be very happy with either, but something daring in her wanted to try for romance.

Later, she thought. If anything was to happen between them, it had to wait until the truth about the lyrium came out. Nonetheless, she thanked the Creators for this chance.

“I think the fish is done, if you want to eat,” Cullen whispered eventually. His voice was husky. Anakin turned and looked at him, meeting his eyes. She wondered if he’d been staring at her the whole time she’d been thinking.

“Eating sounds lovely,” she said softly.

The mood in the hut had turned dreamy, and she wasn’t eager to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over them. Cullen felt the same, if his silence was any indication. They sat side by side in front of the fire, her knee brushing his. Together, they stared into the flames as they ate quietly.

The embrium seeds tasted amazing on the fish.

After they finished, Anakin asked quietly, “Do you still want to spar?”

Cullen looked out the window. The sky had turned dark, but there weren’t any more stars than there had been. After a second of listening, Anakin realized it had started raining very gently.

“Not tonight, I think,” he answered in the same tone as her question. “I’m suddenly very sleepy.”

She nodded in agreement and after another quiet pause, Cullen laughed softly. She smiled at the sound before asking, “What?”

“I’m torn,” he admitted. “I understand I need to be on the bed in order to be restrained, but I very badly want to offer the bed to you.”

“Silly,” she chided with no real heat. “You forget I am a Dalish. I don’t need a thick mattress to sleep comfortably.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I know that, and yet, I feel as if my mother would beat me if she knew I was letting a lady sleep on the floor."

He was so sweet. “Your mother sounds like a woman in charge.”

“Oh, she was,” Cullen said earnestly, ambling over to the bed slowly. “She raised me well, something I’ve always been grateful for.”

“I never knew my mother,” Anakin said as she followed him, picking up the ties from where they’d been left on the floor that morning. “She left when I was young to join another clan with a man she’d fallen in love with. She worried she couldn’t be a good mother to me, so she left me in the Keeper’s care.”

“What about your father?” Cullen asked, settling on the bed. Anakin shrugged.

“She never told anyone who he was, and no one pried. It was her business, and maybe mine, but I don’t really care. The clan raised me well.”

“Why aren’t you with them now?” he said, obediently offering her his wrists. With the utmost care, she began binding him. There was less slack then there was last night, as she’d cut the ropes, but they were long enough still to bind him. Tomorrow though she would definitely have to make more rope.

“Because I am with you,” she answered simply. “My clan is one that doesn’t speak with shemlen often. We do not trade with them, we do not speak with them, and we rarely leave the depths of whatever forest we find ourselves in. They wouldn’t understand why I involved myself with a human,”

“I still don’t think I understand myself,” he said lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nonetheless, I’m sorry. It must be hard to be away from them.”

“I thought it would be,” she said, dropping her hands from his, but staying perched on the edge of the bed. It could fit two, but it wouldn’t be wise to sleep beside him. “But I find I do not miss them as intensely as I should.”

“That’s how I felt when I joined the Order when I was a child,” he said. “I was sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep for missing them, but I slept fine.”

“We’re always surprising ourselves, aren’t we?” she mused. He nodded. She yawned and stood.

“Good night, lethallin. Sleep well.”

“You called me that earlier,” Cullen said as she curled up in her furs. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘friend’,” she said. “You are my lethallin, and I would be your lethallan.”

After a moment of listening to the rain patter on the roof, he whispered, “Good night, lethallan.”

Anakin took a moment to ask Mythal- beg, really- to let her keep this one. He’s good, she thought. Let him be mine, please.

She was asleep before she could get a reply.

 

Cullen made it through the entire night without forgetting himself, but by the time Anakin was awake, his tremors were worse than they’d been since that first night. She eyed him worriedly and got to see the way that he shook so hard that he woke himself up. He was pale and his breathing was shallow and quick.

“Anakin,” he moaned, quivering on the bed. “I need it. I need lyrium.”

Her heart broke for him and she strode quickly to the bed to stroke at his sweat-damp hair.

“No, you don’t,” she crooned. “Lethallin, you are strong without it.”

He shook his head frantically. The flower crown, which he’d worn even in his sleep, was in tatters. “Anakin, please. These mountains are full of veins. Just let me have a little bit. Just enough to help me through, and I won’t take it again, I swear.”

“No, you can’t have any,” she said softly. “Let me make you the tea.”

“It won’t work,” he said brokenly. There were tears in his eyes. “Nothing can work. Nothing will replace the need for lyrium.”

She crawled closer, burying her face in his shaking chest. His breaths were wet with sobs and Anakin’s heart _ached_.

“You don’t need the lyrium,” she told his chest fiercely. “You _don’t._ ”

Suddenly, his tremors ceased. Surprised, Anakin looked up to face him. His eyes were far away and clouded, roving blindly over the roof.

“Here again?” he whispered. “No. They will not break me. I will not give in.”

“Cullen?”

He sighed heavily. “Leave me, demon. Haven’t you realized by now that I will not break?”

He was gone. She had lost him to another lyrium dream, the same one that he had fallen into before. Luckily, he didn’t seem inclined to fight his restraints. Rather, he laid there, looking defeated. Feeling sick to her stomach, she curled back into him.

“I will not leave you,” she said. “I will stay right here, and when you’re ready, you can come back to me.”

“I’m surprised you don’t look like Mistress Amell, the way you usually do,” he said conversationally. “Did you get sick of tempting me with her form? This one is quite different, you know.”

Anakin gently covered his mouth with her hand. “Hush, lethallin. I do not want to hear anything you wouldn’t tell me in your right state of mind.”

He made a noise and she thumped her free hand against his chest. He settled immediately. After a few minutes of silence, she pulled her hand away. Immediately, he began speaking, but she didn’t bother to stop him again. If reciting his church’s prayers brought him comfort, she would not deny him that.

Anakin didn’t know how much time passed before Cullen began to stir. She did know that the rain had finally stopped, and that her legs started to cramp for where they were curled awkwardly beneath her. Still, she didn’t move. Cullen needed her- or maybe he didn’t, but she would be here for him anyway and she didn’t ever want him to doubt that.

“Anakin?” he said, voice hoarse after however long he’d been reciting. She turned her head to him so he could see her tremulous smile.

“Good morning, starshine,” she said. “Have you come back?”

He was blushing slightly as he shook his head. “What happened? Did I-” He trailed off, looking troubled, before restarting. “I did. I remember. I- I think I could use some of that tea now.”

Anakin saw her chance. “Maybe, and of course I’ll make you some, but if you ask me, it looks like you got through that all by yourself. No tea needed.”

He looked away, jaw set. “I shouldn’t have been so weak in the first place. I shouldn’t have asked you for lyrium, I shouldn’t have fallen into another dream-”

“Well, that’s some of the worst nonsense I’ve ever heard,” Anakin said sharply, jerking away from Cullen. He turned hurt eyes on her. She scowled at him anyway.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are doing what no other templar has _ever done._ I think that makes it okay for you to falter a few times.”

“I should be better,” he said earnestly. “I should be doing better.”

“Who do you need to be better for?” she demanded. “Cullen! You and I are _the only people here!_ The first time I saw you, you were passed out and delusional. You can’t make much worse of an impression than that, yet I still like and respect you. You shouldn’t be holding yourself to such standards for me, so are you doing it for yourself?”

He tried to answer, looking troubled, but she talked over him. “These standards are impossible and they’re only hurting you. You have enough strength to get through this, I know you do, so let yourself fall on me. Together, we are stronger than the one, remember?”

He was quiet, apparently waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he said, brow creased with confusion, “Anakin, if no templar has done this before, how do you know the medicine works?”

She froze. “I-”

“There isn’t really a cure, is there. This addiction will kill me.”

Her anger rekindled instantly. “Bullshit. That’s complete bullshit, Cullen! This is _twice_ now that you’ve snapped out of the delusions all by yourself, and this time was shorter and less violent than last time. But apparently, you can’t see that, and would rather die choking on your own shame.”

Furious, she stood and stalked away, collapsing in her furs. “Fine then. Leave and go die somewhere. See if I care.”

“Anakin, I’m still tied to the bed.”

She pulled the furs over her head and ignored him. He wasn’t actually allowed to leave. She would see him fixed if it killed her, but she didn’t want to look at him right now. He heaved a heavy sigh, and she ignored that too.

“Do you really think I can overcome the lyrium addiction, even without a magical cure?”

“I think,” she mumbled, not emerging from the blankets, “that you don’t even need me, and could do it by yourself if really necessary.”

“Even if I could, I still appreciate you being here, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he said, voice soft and honest. She ripped the blankets off her head and turned to scowl at him.

“That’s not what I’m angry at, felas shem. I’m angry that you have so little faith in yourself, because if you don’t believe in yourself, then why should I be here?”

“I did warn you I wasn’t a very good patient,” he told her with a slight smile. She looked at him hard and the smile turned hopeful.

“I’m sorry, Anakin. You’re right. You’re being very helpful and I’m just throwing it in your face. If you untie me, we could eat breakfast together? And I would still like some of that tea, if that’s all right. It’s actually very good.”

“Did you really think the lyrium addiction was killing you?” she asked as she grudgingly made her way back to his bed. He looked at her thoughtfully.

“You know, I’ve actually been considering trying to stop taking it for a while. The more corruption I saw in the ranks, the less I wanted any part of it. Meredith was the final straw. I think I would have tried to stop. I wouldn’t have stopped immediately, though. I would have tried to slowly lessen my intake until I didn’t need it any more. I wasn’t prepared for the sudden cut off when I was excommunicated from the Order a week ago.”

“You haven’t had lyrium for a week?” Anakin asked, startled. Cullen sat up, rubbing his wrists from beneath her scarf pieces.

“About. The timeline is a little hazy.”

Anakin shoved him gently in his chest. “And you had the gall to reprimand yourself for having a breakdown? Cullen, this is amazing. I thought you had just barely stopped. If lyrium addiction is anything like what a drunkard feels, you’ve passed the worst of it. It should only be easier here on out. Have you had any convulsions?”

He grimaced. “Not that I remember? Like I said, though, the time between when you found me and when I left Kirkwall a few days ago is hard to remember.”

She grinned brightly at him. “See? You really don’t need me, other than to watch over your unconscious body, but even that will probably cease in a few days. You’ll always crave the lyrium, and it’ll probably interfere with your sleep schedule-”

“It already does,” Cullen said, giving her a strange look. “Haven’t you heard my nightmares?”

“Nightmares?” she asked blankly. He chuckled disbelievingly, rubbing his forehead.

“I thought you were being kind to my pride. You really didn’t wake up when I started thrashing in my sleep?”

Anakin was mortified. “I’m so sorry. I’m a very deep sleeper when I feel safe. I can’t believe I’ve been letting you fight these on your own. I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

Cullen laughed and gently shook her shoulder, bumping his forehead against her temple. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “The nightmares can’t be prevented anyway, and just waking and hearing you snoring helps me feel better. I’m happy that you aren’t disturbed by them.”

First sleeping through his torment and now she was snoring too. Anakin was sure she was bright red. Groaning, she hid her face in her hands.

“Elgar’nan, please strike me dead,” she muttered into her palms. Cullen bumped her head again.

“Come on, my lady,” he teased. “Let’s get breakfast ready, hey? Want me to go find a nug?”

“Yes please,” she said, still hiding her face, which was even hotter at him calling her a lady. “My knife is by my furs. I’ll get the kettle going while you’re gone.”

She heard him whistling as he left and wondered uncharitably whether mood swings were part of lyrium withdrawal. Actually, they probably were, now that she thought about it. Sighing, she slowly unfolded herself from the bed and went to get water boiling, grateful for a bucket that had filled with rainwater the night before.

As the water boiled, Anakin thought. At least the truth was finally out, and Cullen didn’t seem to be angry at her for her lie. To be frank, it had all gone down a lot better than Anakin had hoped. Now that Cullen knew that she didn’t have to make him a special drink, however, he no longer needed her. Did that mean it was time to go, to return to her clan? It didn’t feel done, though. _She_ didn’t feel done. She didn’t know what Mythal intended her to gain from this, but she knew she hadn’t accomplished what she had to yet.

She shifted into a more reverent pose and prayed for answers. As was usual, there was no reply. Sighing, Anakin sat back and reconsidered. She would ask Cullen, if he wanted her to go, or maybe, if he wanted to go. Maybe he wanted to go home now, wherever his home was, and see his family.

“Anakin?”

She turned. Cullen was in the doorway, beaming broadly at her. In his arms, he had a dead chicken and a few eggs.

“Did you steal that?” she demanded. Cullen drooped, scowling at her.

“No, I didn’t. It’s a wild chicken, thank you very much.”

She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, lethallin. It’s just that people always blame the Dalish for thievery in the area, whether or not we were the responsible ones. I wanted to make sure my clan wasn’t going to get in trouble.”

He looked mollified as he came and sat next to her, handing her the eggs and starting to pluck at the chicken.

“That doesn’t really seem fair. Why are you blamed?”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you telling me you weren’t told stories of heathen Dalish elves and their pagan ways as a child?”

He looked abashed before a stubborn look crossed his face. “Well, yes, but I grew up. I’ve met some very nice Dalish elves.”

“Not all Dalish are nice, and not all shemlen have your maturity,” she said, pouring a little more rainwater in a pot and placing the pot and eggs over the fire.

“I’m sorry that this is what you grew up with,” he said. “Could you hand me the roast spit, please?”

She hummed dismissively as she handed him the spit, then taking the kettle off the fire. “It’s easy to become accustomed to, when it’s your whole life. Tea?”

“Please.”

They fell quiet as they waited for breakfast to finish. Then, bursting as if he couldn’t contain it anymore, Cullen snapped, “Actually, no. You shouldn’t be accustomed to it. That shouldn’t be your life. Who did it? Give me names, of people, of towns, and I will _make sure_ you receive proper compensation.”

She stared at him- with his flashing, golden eyes, the height and power he seemed to have gained, the noble grace seemingly emitting from his flesh- and laughed, loud and uncontrollably.

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” she gasped between giggles, trying not to look at his indignant face. “No shem will apologize or compensate damages done to a Dalish elf, unless held at sword point.”

“Then they’ll be held at sword point, won’t they?” he said fiercely. She patted his knee.

“I appreciate you wanting to do this for me, Cullen, I truly do,” she assured him, “but it’s simply not feasible. It’s very kind of you to offer, but it’s unnecessary.”

“It’s not right,” he said stubbornly.

“It’s the way of the world,” she said. “One shem and elf cannot change it, no matter how much they tried.”

“We could,” he argued. “You and I, together, we could try.”

She smiled and served the chicken and eggs. “I’ll tell you what, lethallin. If, by the time the lyrium addiction doesn’t have such a solid grasp on you, you still feel like changing the world with me, you and I will go. We’ll go to each small town and big city, from the Imperium to the Korcari Wilds, in Orlais, the Free Marches, Ferelden and everywhere in between, and we’ll change the way people think, one person at a time.”

“Do you swear it?” he demanded, eyes intent and serious.  She held a hand to her heart.

“I swear it to the Creators,” she promised. “You and I will change the world.”

Satisfied, he sat back and reached for the tea kettle and they finished their meal in comfortable silence. It was as they were washing dishes on the porch outside the house, the sunlight weak through gray clouds, that Cullen spoke again.

“Could we perhaps spar now?” he asked tentatively. She grinned at him. It was too bad that he didn’t have a sword.

“Fists or knives?”

He grinned back. “Fists.”

In synchronization, they dropped their dishes and dashed out to the clearing they’d practiced in yesterday. Anakin was much faster than Cullen, even though she was stripping down to her underclothes as she ran. She nearly tripped over her pants and did lose her lead, but caught herself on a tree and managed to avoid falling on her face. By the time she was settled again, Cullen was in the clearing in his underclothes, already stretching.

“I really am going to beat you today,” he told her seriously. “I’m barely shaking at all, and my mind is definitely moving faster than it has been. I think you were right about the worst passing.”

“If we’re really lucky,” she said, stretching alongside him, “then this morning will be the last time you fall into a lyrium dream, while you’re awake, at least.”

“I have a good feeling,” he said, smiling brightly at her. He bounced up and down in place for a second, the noon day sun shining down on him. Anakin tore her eyes away reluctantly. She couldn’t allow herself to get distracted by all the skin on display, especially since he didn’t seem to be distracted by her.

“On three, and to first cry of mercy?” she asked, crouching into a ready position. He followed her, though his stance was higher, more suited to his body mass.

“One,” he said, arching an eyebrow challengingly. She smirked at him.

“Two.”

“Three!”

She darted into motion, her right fist headed straight for his ribcage. He knocked her fist aside, his open palm coming to land on her back and shove her down. She avoided it by nearly rolling into him, tangling his legs with hers and sweeping him to the ground. Unfortunately, he caught her wrist as he fell, and they both hit the grass hard. She recovered faster than he did, but he wasn’t nearly as easy to pin today as he had been the day before. Anakin was strong, especially for an elf of her size, but Cullen was bigger and knew how to use his bulk to his advantage.

Growling, she shoved her palm in his face, trying to pin his head to the ground. “Stop _squirming!”_ she snarled, tightening her legs around his waist as he bucked his hips. He twisted in a move she didn’t recognize, pinning her to the ground.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” he panted. Sweat was beading on their bodies where they connected. It was to Anakin’s advantage, allowing her to slip away from him and roll away to regroup. Panting, she smiled at him.

“You really are feeling better, aren’t you?”

He shrugged modestly, kneeling with one fist planted on the ground. “I do have ten more years of experience than you, at least.”

She stood and beckoned him tauntingly. “Let’s see if that’s enough to let you win, hmm?”

Giving a warcry that made her laugh, he charged at her. She whipped out of his reach, pulling the same move he tried on her and attempting to shove his body to the ground with her palm. He was more solid than she counted on though, and swiped an arm at her knee. With her hand braced on his back, she sprung over him, trying to trip him again as soon as she hit the ground.

She had no luck.

One of Cullen’s big arms came over her head, wrapping around her bust and holding her back to his chest. It was the same position from yesterday in which he’d tickled her.

“No,” she started, struggling violently. “Don’t you do it!”

He managed to hold on to her, and in her ear he whispered smugly, “Is that mercy I hear you asking for, my lady?”

“Never!” she shouted, writhing as powerfully as she could, trying desperately to elbow him in the gut as his fingers crept threateningly closer to her bare stomach.

“I’ll do it,” he threatened. “It’s up to you whether you cry mercy now or after I tickle you to tears.”

It was time to fight dirty. Steeling her resolve, she hit the back of her head into his throat. Choking, he let her go. While he staggered away, she leaped at his back, trying to pin him. He caught her _again_ , with one arm humiliatingly enough, and then he flopped on her, using his weight to pin her down. Mouth full of grass, she shrieked in protest.

“Let me... catch my breath,” he wheezed. “That… was mean, Anakin.” His voice was admiring.

Huffing, she slumped beneath him and let him pant for breath. She grumbled into the grass about heavy shemlen who couldn’t take a single hit. He laughed into the back of her neck and began to tickle her.

“ _Cullen!”_ she shouted, thrashing beneath him. _“Unfair!”_

“A man has to do what a man has to do.”

His voice even sounded regretful, damn him. Grudgingly, she cried for mercy between shrieked giggles. Immediately, he rolled off of her and panted up at the sun.

“You fight dirty,” she said reproachfully. He shrugged.

“I won, didn’t I?”

“No excuse.”

After they caught their breath, he turned and smiled at her. “Again?”

She rocked to her feet and so they went.

 

By the time the sun was setting, they had sparred (approximately) twenty eight rounds. Anakin has won twelve exactly, and Cullen had won (approximately) sixteen.

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to discount that round. I won fair and square!” Cullen protested as they meandered to the hot springs to wash off the dust and sweat that had accumulated in truly disgusting amounts on their bodies.

“You did not!” Anakin argued, darting in front of him to look him in the eyes as he argued. “You grabbed my breast and I was so shocked that I yelled mercy. That’s _not_ beating me!”

He blushed, but not nearly as brightly as he had when he realized that he was holding her breast. “I didn’t mean to! I was trying to grab your shoulder! But you still said mercy, and that means that I won.”

“It doesn’t count,” she insisted. “That whole round was nonsense.”

There had been a lot of inappropriate grabbing that round, after she yelled mercy.

“A good commander will use whatever tactics necessary to ensure victory,” he said, voice pompous.

Sniffing, Anakin put distance between them. “I never realized that you were such a lecher.”

He stopped in his tracks. “I am _not_ a lecher! _”_ he protested loudly.

“You grabbed a poor Dalish girl’s delicate areas in order to win a spar!” she said, pouting exaggeratedly. He gave a disbelieving laugh.

“Ohoho! _Firstly_ , you are perfectly capable of defending yourself. Secondly, you grabbed my delicate areas too!”

“That’s different!” she protested as they neared the springs. “It was self-defense!”

He huffed before smiling tentatively at her. “Fine. You win. That didn’t count. Now will you admit I’m not a lecher?”

“Well, it was accidental,” she allowed before smiling back. “Fifteen to twelve then?”

“Fifteen to twel- oh, Maker’s breath, you’re undressing.”

She turned to face him, hands on her hips, bare breasts exposed. “Didn’t we already go over bathing naked?”

Cullen held his hand over his eyes, mumbling, “But I was delusional and half-dead.”

“And now we’ve sparred and wrestled half-naked _and_ you’ve grabbed my breast. I feel like we can bathe together comfortably.”

“I think it would be uncomfortable for me to bathe naked with my wife,” he told her seriously, still covering his eyes. She grabbed her breast bindings and held them up to her chest, aghast.

“ _You have a wife?”_

“ _No!”_ he yelped, still covering his eyes. “It was completely hypothetical!”

“You can’t scare me like that,” she scolded, dropping her clothes and stepping into the water. “Now, I’m safely covered by bubbles. You can come in.”

“Are you watching? Because I’m not undressing with you watching.”

“No,” she said, closing her eyes. “Your virtue is safe.”

After a minute, he said tentatively, “You can open your eyes now.”

She didn’t bother, instead sinking under the water and scrubbing at her hair. One of the problems of having white hair was that it became dirty very easily. It took effort to keep looking nice, which was part of the reason she kept it so short.

When her lungs started to burn, she breached the surface, shaking the excess water from her head and rubbing at her eyes. She really loved hot water. Natural hot springs were a gift from the gods.

“Anakin?”

She blinked her eyes open at Cullen. Setting sunlight suited him, painting him in golds and ambers. It was much better than the moonlight she had first seen him in, though noon day sun was even better than setting sun.

“What?”

“I’m glad that you found me and didn’t slit my throat in my sleep,” he said sincerely. She laughed.

“I’m glad too, lethallin.”

A thought occurred to her, and her heart started to pound. Mustering all her courage and glad that the water hid palms that she was sure would be sweating in open air, she turned her back to him.

“Help me wash my back?” she asked quietly.

“I...” He trailed off immediately and shame flushed her cheeks. She had been too forward. He wouldn’t-

Large, warm hands settled tentatively on her shoulders. She flinched. Cullen did too, and they both laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she said. “You startled me.”

“I startled myself,” he admitted, and slowly he started rubbing water over her back. It felt wondrous, and she arched into his touch, humming happily. He slowly grew braver, pressing more firmly and massaging out knots. He never went further down than midback, and never strayed from her back and shoulders. Anakin was glad for it, even as a slow warmth filled her belly. She wasn’t ready for anything more than careful touches, she thought. Still, the minutes passed in a blissful haze. Between the hot water and Cullen’s gentle touches, she couldn’t think of a time she was more relaxed. It was hard to imagine that just days ago she didn’t trust his unconscious body with a knife, and now she trusted him with her back.

Finally, his hands fell away. She turned to face him. He was a lot closer than she’s realized, and she stared at the center of his chest, where her eye level was. It wasn’t a bad view at all. “Your turn,” she said softly, and unhesitatingly, he turned his back to her.

Carefully, she scooped a palmful of water and let it drip over his back, repeating this until his entire back glistened in the dying sun’s rays. With his skin sufficiently slick, she slowly started massaging him. His back was intensely muscled, but he trembled at her touch. She rested her forehead between his shoulderblades, lips brushing his skin.

“Atisha, ma lethallin.”

With a shuddering sigh, he relaxed and she set to kneading the firm muscles of his back. She gave him the same courtesy he granted her and stayed far above any delicate areas. This was more than enough.

All too soon, her hands were too tired and she pulled away regretfully. The sun had finished setting, and she said softly, “We should return home.”

He turned to face her and gave her a smile that had her stomach and heart lurching almost painfully.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Giving each other privacy, they walked out of the warm springs and into the cool air. Shivering, Anakin pulled her underclothes on quickly, regretting that she’d left her real clothes in a pile in the clearing. Cullen turned to face her, teeth chattering. She noticed he’d retied her scarf halves to his wrists and was unable to control her smile.

“Run?”

“Run,” she agreed, and they raced through the forest, the cold spring wind biting. Thankfully, they reached the clearing quickly, and were soon jumping into their clothes.

“We didn’t think that through,” Cullen said. Anakin laughed.

“No. No, we didn’t. At least we have a warm fireplace and piles of furs?”

He nodded emphatically and she turned to the hut. Before she could take more than a few steps, he caught her wrist. She turned to face him quizzically.

“Cullen?”

He rubbed the back of his neck agitatedly with his free hand. “If- if I read this wrong, tell me, but I don’t think I did, so-”

And he kissed her. It was a quick peck, over before she could even process, and she was left staring at him blankly. He was bright red.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re sixteen, for Andraste’s sake, there’s no way you want a washed up lyrium addict assaulting you-”

To shut up the ridiculous words spilling from his mouth, she grabbed his cheeks gently and kissed him, as quickly as he did.

“I do!” she said breathlessly, a bright warmth filling her up so full that she thought she would burst. “I do want you to kiss me, please.”

“Thank the Maker,” he breathed, and then he took her face in his hands, the same way she held him, and kissed her properly.

Fittingly, that was the moment that everything went to hell. With Cullen’s hands warm on her cheeks, his lips still soft against her lips, and the bright warmth that came from the knowledge that there was something between them that could grow, something that could maybe become one of the biggest things in her life- that was when there was an earthshaking explosion from the east. A column of brilliant light shot to the sky, and Anakin could see flames licking the sky, a dark cloud exploding into existence. Cullen ripped away from her and turned horrified eyes towards the explosion.

“What was that?” she cried, stumbling on the shaking ground.

“Kirkwall,” Cullen whispered, eyes distant.

“What?” she asked, but she already knew. He was right. The explosion had come directly from Kirkwall, the city Cullen had come to her from.

Cullen turned to her with determined eyes. “I have to go. I have to see what happened, see if there’s anyone who needs help.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said, already turning to go grab her sword from where it was propped against the hut.

“You can’t!” Cullen said, grabbing her wrist in a horrible mimicry of just minutes before, forcing her to look at him.

“And why not?” she fired back, unafraid to meet his eyes.”I’m the one with a real weapon here! I can defend myself, you _know_ I can!”

“Because it’s not your fight, Anakin,” he said, voice loud and passionate. “Kirkwall is a _hellhole_. It’s no place for a Dalish elf, and _I don’t want you there_."

“That’s not a good enough reason.” Anakin said, trying to pull away from him, hiding her hurt. “You need someone to watch your back. You’re still recovering! What if-”

“Anakin!”

She and Cullen both whipped around and Anakin’s jaw dropped. “Keeper Deshanna?”

Her Keeper stood regally, her staff poised and bright with fire. Her eyes were wild with panic. “Let her go, shem!”

“No, Keeper, you don’t understand!” Anakin said desperately. Everything was falling apart. Her wonderland was crumbling and slipping from her grasp and she could feel her own panic tighten her chest, panic that peaked when Cullen shoved her away. She hit the ground hard, with a cry of pain she couldn’t choke back. Cullen didn’t look at her, instead staring at the Keeper. She could see the tense line of his jaw, but not the expression on his face

“Take her then! And tell her- make her stay away from human men in the future.”

“Cullen!”

It was too late. He grabbed her sword from the ground and, leaving his armor, sprinted towards Kirkwall. Scrambling to her feet, Anakin made to follow him but was halted by her Keeper’s arm snagging around her waist.

“No, da’len! We must leave the area around Kirkwall. It’s too dangerous to stay, and we can’t leave without you. We’ve been searching since the night you went missing!”

Anakin felt tears prick at her eyes, but she stopped fighting, instead staring at Cullen’s small figure, quickly disappearing into the ever smokier woods. She ached to follow him, but she knew her Keeper was right. Their clan must leave, and if they wouldn’t do it without her, then she would have to leave too.

Yet, this _couldn’t_ be what Mythal intended. How could this be the end to her hellathen? It wasn’t finished yet, she _knew_ it. She could _feel_ that there was more to be done. Beyond that, the Creators had given her Cullen. He was hers, he still wore her scarf on his wrists, but the Creators never did anything without a reason. If she and Cullen parted ways now, that meant their story must be done, whether Anakin agreed or not.

Or perhaps, a voice deep inside of her argued, it was only this chapter that had finished, and their story would pick up again later on.

“Very well, Keeper,” she said, turning away from Kirkwall, from Cullen. “Let’s go.”

“You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, da’len,” her Keeper said sternly, handing Anakin her sword. “But that can wait. For now, let us find safety.”

And Anakin walked away, a fragile hope deep in her heart.

 


End file.
